


In the dark I can hold you

by flightinflame



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blindness, Established Relationship, Fluff, Insecure Clint, M/M, Temporary loss of sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony and Clint are caught up in an explosion, they are both temporarily blinded, and it falls to Steve and Phil to take care of them until they recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony and Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Shadowhaloedangel for proofreading this.
> 
> This is the Tony and Steve chapter, the next one is Clint and Phil's perspective of events.

Tony zoomed around the corner, making sure that JARVIS focused on the particular robot they were attacking, magnifying it in his vision so that he could see every single detail of it. His mind raced as he sought out weak spots in the metal casing. 

It was another doombot, and by now he was used to those. The problem was that they had evolved and become more complicated over time. The earliest iterations he could handle alone, but now... well, these latest ones, he needed help. He didn’t like admitting he needed help, but he was beginning to get used to it. The team were there though, all engaging with their own robots, so he couldn't really complain.

"What do you see Stark?" Cap called out.   
"Just a lot of metal and a bad attitude." He answered. "I think he’s just sent them here to destroy things and bother us, but I can't see any weak spots. I'm going to take a closer look."  
"Alright. Keep in contact." Cap answered as Iron Man moved in closer to the robot he was fighting, observing it from a different angle. The plates of armour locked together like armadillo skin, defending it from injury, and the surface was too slick and hard for Clint's arrows to pierce. Another one clinked off its surface with no effect.

"Legolas, you got anything better?"  
"I'll see..." The archer’s voice responded, and he could hear Clint digging through his quiver from the rooftop nearby.  
"I'll see if I can make you something. You know, something that can stick into things that are hard..."  
"You mean so that he can pierce through even the thickest, hardest things with his shaft?" Natasha asked, firing off a shot from her spot on the ground

"Team." Cap reprimanded. "Please, no obscenity over comms."  
"We were talking about archery..." Clint whined, but he fell quiet. Tony set off another repulsor blast and his opponent dropped out of the sky.

Steve gave a slight cheer. "Well done Iron-" There was a pause, and when he spoke again there was an edge of fear to his words. "Tony, get down from there."

The other robots dropped out of their fights, and all raced upwards towards him. As he brought up his repulsors and began to hurtle towards the ground, the robots exploded. A wave of vivid white light, so bright it was agonising, swept through the air towards him, hitting him before Jarvis could dim the display.

Everything went dark, and Tony crashed to earth.  
"Iron Man? Iron Man, do you read me?" Steve's voice echoed after him.

"Steve?" Tony called out, trying to work out where he was. It was dark and he ached. He tried to reconstruct it. He'd crashed. He'd been knocked out of the air by a doom bot, that was it.

"Jarvis, lights." He muttered, hoping that he wouldn't have to rebuild the entire armour from scratch.   
"Sir, the lights are already on."  
"Turn them up then." Tony demanded, worried that Jarvis had been damaged by the fall.  
There was a faint electronic whirr.  
"Sir, the lights are as bright as they can go."

There was the sound of metal snapping, as Thor wrenched off the faceplate to the armour. Tony could feel the sunlight on his face, but he couldn't see a thing. It was just dark.  
"Tony?" Steve asked, his hand brushing over the armour.  
"Stop ruining my faceplates Thor." He muttered.

"I am sorry Man of Iron. Are you well?" The god asked, concerned. He sounded so earnest, that Tony started to laugh.  
"I'm a bit bruised and battered."  
"You fell several floors in a suit, it hurts." That was Clint, but he sounded more irritated than normal. Tony wondered if he’d been hit by the blast as well.  
"What else?" Steve asked, sounding a little shaken. "Did you hit your head? You're not looking directly at me."  
"No..." Tony sighed. "I can't see. The light hit me full on, Jarvis couldn't throw up the shades in time. It's flash blindness..."  
"Okay Tony, I'm right here." Steve's voice was more firm now, and his fingers brushed his cheek. "We'll get Bruce to check you over."

"He... needs to... needs to help me." Clint muttered. "I can't see. That... I'm the eyes of the team, I..." His voice was becoming frantic with terror, and Tony heard the murmur of Natasha and Coulson trying to calm him. 

"It's okay Tony. Bruce is just looking at Clint, and then he’s going to help you." Steve was trying to sound reassuring and calm. It didn’t quite work. "Tony, can you get out of your suit please, he'll need to check you over..."  
"Alright..." Tony relayed the order, and Jarvis helped him to peel the suit away. He was struggling to stay standing, nearly falling forwards. Steve's arms wrapped around him, rubbing his back.

"I'm here now Tony." Bruce told him, making sure he was aware of his arrival. "I'm here, and I can take a look over you. Any other pain?"  
"Just the normal bruising when I fall out of the air." Tony admitted. "I...it wouldn't be the first time I've experienced temporary blindness..." His voice became quieter, as he thought back to the cave. Steve's arms tightened a little, but then he moved back a respectful distance. To Tony, it felt a lot like rejection

Bruce examined him carefully, narrating the whole time, then moved away.  
"Tony, the good news is that you were right, it is just flash blindness. In a day or two it's going to get better, and for now there's nothing that can be done to help heal it. It genuinely will recover on its own. Just stay relaxed and try not to let it worry you, tomorrow or the day after your eyes will be back to normal." Bruce sounded so calm and reassuring, like the doctor he was, a voice that they could trust.

"Thanks..." Tony muttered.  
"I'll look after you." Steve promised, his hand resting over Tony's own, his fingers wrapping around the engineer's. Tony held onto him tightly. Steve’s voice was almost painfully gentle. "It's only a couple of days. Now, let's get you home..." 

Tony let Steve guide him back to the waiting car - someone must have called for it, he didn't know who. He wasn't even sure which of his chauffeurs was driving. He slid into the car, hearing Steve talking to the rest of the team. Captain America was in charge once more, telling the three remaining members of team to handle the clean-up and then get back to the tower. Clint and Coulson had already gone.

Tony curled up against the window, feeling small. He didn't like the darkness. It felt like being trapped.  
"Steve." He whispered, and Steve's hand was instantly resting upon his, and the darkness expanded just a little bit.  
"Right here Tony. Right here. We're going back to the tower..." Steve's voice was level and calm, and he kept talking to him quietly the whole way home. It made him feel safer and more grounded. Once they were inside the tower and parked, Steve helped him from the car.

Tony took a deep breath as he stepped out. The workshop. The smell of it was familiar, so was the whirr of the bots, and Jarvis's usual greeting. It meant he was safe. Tony felt himself relaxing a little as his feet cautiously edged their way forwards.  
"Steve?"  
"Tony... I'm right here." Steve promised. "Jarvis, Tony needs audio description for a while, can you do that?"  
"Of course Captain Rogers. Sir, if you need anything, you can ask, and I shall provide."  
"Thanks J. Knew I could trust you." Tony answered, smiling. Steve's hand rested on his arm.  
"Where do you want to go Tony?"   
"My room. But..." He held out his hands. "Come here You, Butterfingers, Dummy..." The robots whirred over to him when summoned. He rested his hands on each of them in turn, petting them softly. "Good bots...come on Steve, let’s go to our bed, have a post-mission de-brief." Normally that phrase could at least make Steve cough or shuffle awkwardly.

"You sure Tony?"  
"Yeh. I'm sure." Tony grinned. "Just because I can't see anything doesn't mean that I don't want to appreciate your gorgeous body..."   
Steve chuckled and led him to the elevator, kissing him deeply as they headed to their room. Tony heard the doors open, and walked forwards, trying to remember where the walls were and how the layout of his rooms worked. He'd slept in this room for months now, but this wasn't making any sense. Deprived of sight, his mental map of the rooms swam in and out of focus. He stumbled, and only Steve's gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him ending up on the ground.

"Tony, you had better get clean. You got nastily scraped up, we can shower..." Steve suggested gently.   
"I ... no." Tony muttered, looking down, unable to cope with the suggestion. "I can't. I just... I can't." He felt sick. He just... he didn't know how to explain it. After Afghanistan, being in the dark and the water, it was horrible. He felt the room spinning. He couldn't see anything, it was too black, too hard to move through, and any sense of where he was had completely disappeared. The mental map he had constructed vanished completely.

"Alright Tony." Steve's voice was gentle, calming, the hand on his shoulder squeezing softly. Tony was grateful for that as it gave him something to focus on as the rest of the room span out of control. "How about you sit on the side of the bath, and I get a flannel and help you wash?" Steve suggested kindly. Tony nodded.  
"Yeh... we can do that." Tony muttered. He could imagine that working. As long as he knew where he was. "Keep talking to me?"  
"I'll do that." Steve reassured him. "I'll talk to you the whole time." He guided him to sitting on the edge of the bath.  
"It's okay Tony. Just sit down, there you go...Take your shirt and pants off if you can? It'll help."   
"Yeh, sure...." Tony fumbled with his clothing, wondering why it was so difficult. He closed his eyes and that somehow made it easier. He could just pretend he only couldn’t see because he had his eyes closed, and Steve’s voice proved that he was there with him.

The engineer could hear water running, but he tried to ignore it. He didn't want to feel trapped, to think too much of the dark and the water. It had too many bad memories within it.   
"Tony... relax. It's alright. I'm right here..." Steve's hand reached out for his, wrapping his fingers around Tony's. "You can keep hold of me if you'd like to."  
"I'd like that..." Tony murmured, sliding his hand over to Steve's side while Steve filled the sink with warm water.

He soaked a flannel, wringing it out and brushing it over his shoulders, kissing his forehead.   
"It's okay." Steve kept talking, murmuring almost mindlessly. It was important that he talked, that he could keep Tony feeling safe. "I'm right here. You did really well earlier. I don't think it will be too long until your sight recovers, and until that happens, well, I'll be here the whole time. You should know that. I love you Tony. You're perfect, and brave, and a bit of an idiot at times. But you are amazing."

Tony laughed at that, tilting his head up towards Steve as the damp cloth slid over his neck.   
"You really know how to flatter me."  
"I'm not flattering, I'm being honest. I'm going to clean around the reactor now okay?"  
Tony nodded sharply, sitting still, his fingers gripping the edge of the bath, the knuckles turning white from stress and fear that bubbled through his skin. Steve's hand brushed the metal case as he wiped the skin clean, before he moved further down his chest.

"It's alright Tony..."  
In any other situation, Tony would have been flirting with him. It would have been fun to be being touched. But not with the water and the darkness. He sat still, focusing on his breathing.  
"It's alright." He echoed Steve, relaxing as the touches moved lower down his legs. Once he was clean, Steve moved away, dropping the flannel in the sink. A moment later, a fluffy towel wrapped around him, and Steve's hands helped him back up to his feet.

He was pulled up against a reassuringly strong chest, burying his face against Steve's throat and inhaling his scent, kissing the skin softly.  
"Better?" Steve asked quietly. Tony nodded, and paused.  
"Come on. Don't like being in the bathroom. Bedroom."

Steve nodded, arm around his side, guiding him to the bedroom and sitting him on the bed. He sat down beside him and Tony leant forwards into the dip, kissing Steve's shoulder and nuzzling his nose into the warmth of him.   
"Tony?" Steve's arm wrapped around him. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like this. It feels like ..." He hesitated, too many options occurring at once. He tried different combinations of words in his mouth, looking for the one that would make most sense. He could sense Steve's eyes on him, and he knew that he needed to say something. "It feels like I'm not in control."  
"It's okay..." Steve murmured, but Tony shook his head.

"No, it's not okay. I don't know... I don't know who I am right now. I've always been in control. That's what I do. I make things so that I can control them, so that I can plan ahead, and right now I can't..."  
"Tony..." Steve murmured, kissing his forehead. "You are still in control. Jarvis is keeping an eye on us. He's your eyes, he can see more than you, and I'll look after you with his help. But you are in control. Nothing will happen unless you want it to because you're ..."

Tony had heard enough. He leaned in and kissed him softly, sucking on Steve's bottom lip and then pulling away to smirk.  
"I believe you Steve. Now, I'm in control right?"  
"Of course Tony..." Steve sounded less concerned now, more relaxed. He could hear Tony's normal personality creeping back into his voice.  
"Well, I want you. And now, normally I can just look at you right? Absorb how beautiful you are..." Tony murmured to him, his kisses moving along his jaw and reaching up to suck on the lobe of his ear, happy when he realised that he was able to navigate Steve by touch alone.  
"Yeh... normally you can..." Steve gasped, tilting his head.  
"But right now I can't. I'll have to use my hands..." Fingers ran up along Steve's side. "And my mouth." He nuzzled against his side, sucking harder on his earlobe. 

"Yeh... we can do that." Steve agreed. "It sounds really good..."  
"Course it sounds good..." Tony groaned, smirking as he reached to unbutton Steve's shirt, caressing him and gasping as Steve's fingers traced over his body in return. When his shirt was undone, he kissed down Steve's skin, nuzzling against it and relishing Steve's scent, as Steve's hand ran down his back in return.

Steve grinned down at him, tilting his head to let Tony kiss at his neck.   
"You are so beautiful..."  
"Yeh... but you feel beautiful..." Tony murmured, kissing him gently, sucking on his lips as he pushed away the sleeves of his shirt. Then he tangled on the bed with Steve, fumbling him out of his trousers, and licking at the skin of his neck. It was hot, and he could feel the pulse racing in his throat. 

Steve rolled them, sliding the towel away from Tony, fingers stroking over his hips, lingering in the dips there before he ran his hand over him. Tony surrendered to the sensation for a moment, rocking up against his hand, enjoying every second of it.  
"Come on Steve... I want more..."  
"Yeh..." Steve searched on the bedside table, not breaking contact with Tony, and let out a short cry of victory when he managed to find what he was looking for.

Tony smiled and held out his hand. He nodded when he got handed the lube, preparing himself as he pressed close to Steve. Once he was fully ready, he rolled them over again, straddling Steve and sinking down upon him. He could imagine how Steve would look right now - it was a sight he'd seen often enough in the past. He leaned down, kissing up his throat, and finding his way over to Steve’s lips, kissing him again as they began to rock closer to each other, Tony shifting his hips until he found exactly the right angle.

They moved as one, exploring their partner’s body with hands and eager mouths until they found their release together, crying out each other's names. Steve picked up a tissue from the bedside cabinet, wiping himself and Tony clean and pulling him into his arms. 

"Was that alright?" Steve murmured as Tony lay down on him, resting his head over Steve's heart. Steve's fingers stroked through his hair and Tony felt himself relax, cuddling up close to the security of his lover's body.  
"Yeh Steve. Really good... you're fantastic, you know that? And not just in bed…"

Even deprived of his sight, Tony could feel the heat spreading across Steve's face. He was still shy about compliments about his prowess, for all that Tony tried to deliver them regularly.  
"You were the fantastic one Tony... do you want to stay in my arms tonight?" He hesitated for a moment, knowing that Tony's pride might stop him from agreeing to it even if he wanted it. "I mean, it'd really mean a lot to me."  
"That's fine..." Tony answered, the last slight hints of tension leaving his body as he relaxed against Steve's chest, slowing his breathing to match the soldier’s own. 

After a few minutes, they were both deeply asleep, and they woke only the following day. All night their thoughts were peaceful, and Tony didn't have nightmares. He felt too secure for them, for that night at least. They lay on the bed, their limbs tangled together and holding each other close.

The dawn light began to filter into the room, and Steve stretched as his alarm blared. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling a weight on his chest, and glancing down to find Tony curled against him. He frowned a little as he remembered the previous night, and the flash blindness that Tony was suffering from. His fingers snuck out to stroke Tony's hair back from his face.

The contact startled him a little and Tony blinked up at him in confusion, letting out a slight squeak of irritation at being awoken. It took another few moments before he registered what had happened, and he gazed up into the soft azure pools of Steve's eyes.


	2. Clint and Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is temporarily blinded and Phil takes care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Shadowhaloedangel for proofreading again.
> 
> Some dom/sub undertones in this one.

Clint perched on the rooftop, watching his team on the ground below. They were facing another doombot attack - the third this month. It was nothing if not repetitive, and normally Clint entertained himself by seeing which arrows were most effective at bringing the robots down. Today though it was different – they’d clearly had a redesign.

His arrows were just clanging off the casing, reducing him from his usual usefulness to simply a pair of eyes calling out patterns and strays, making sure that none of them got through the boundary line that the police had set up to give the Avengers room to fight.

"Nat, your left." She spun and shot the robot, and it fell down. Clint whooped.  
"Barton, focus." That was Phil's voice, calm and professional in his ear. Clint shivered a little. He told himself it wasn't his fault - he hadn't intended to fall in love with Coulson after all, it had just happened and now that it had happened, he had to live with the consequences. Including getting distracted by Coulson's voice when it tried to get him to focus over comms. He hadn’t actually got around to telling Phil how counter-intuitive his efforts were.

"What do you see Stark?" Steve called out, and Clint's attention turned back to the battle, watching Iron Man circling around chasing after one of the bots.  
"Just a lot of metal and a bad attitude. I think they are just after destruction, but I can't see any weak spots, I'm going to take a closer look."  
"Alright. Keep in contact." Cap answered as Iron Man moved in. Clint decided to try and help, aiming at the bot and sending off another arrow, firing it at the head of the machine. It clinked harmlessly off the surface and fell down to the ground.

"Legolas, you got anything better?" Iron Man asked, clearly getting frustrated by the lack of results.  
"I'll see..." Clint muttered, just as frustrated as Tony was. He looked through his quiver, discounting each arrow in turn. His gaze lingered on a putty arrow, and he fitted the head to one of the general-purpose shafts- it might not solve the problem, but it could at least gum them up a bit, maybe stop them from moving or at least slow them down.  
"I'll see if I can make you something." Tony called, in the tone that suggested his eyebrows were waggling inside the helmet. "You know, something that can stick into things that are hard..."

Of course, whenever he started being obscene, Natasha would decide to join in, and she tended to win.  
"You mean so that he can pierce through even the thickest, hardest things with his shaft?" She asked, shooting another bot - this one wasn't stopped, but it was at least slowed by her action, enabling Thor to hit it out of the air with his hammer.

"Team..." Steve pleaded. "Please, no obscenity over comms."  
"It wasn't obscene unless you made it obscene..." Natasha muttered, while Clint just whined.  
"We were talking about archery..." He shot the putty arrow at a bot that was creeping up on Tony, and it exploded, covering it in goo a moment before Iron Man hit the one that he was fighting with a repulsor blast, sending it dropping from the sky. 

"Well done Iron-" Steve began to cheer, but a moment later he sounded frightened. "Tony, get down from there."  
Clint could see why. The other bots were all racing up towards the open air, where Tony was and near where Clint was perching. He backed away frantically from the roof's edge, searching for a grappling arrow. He found one and fitted it to his bow, still watching the bots. They reached the height Iron Man was at and exploded as Clint jumped from the roof, firing the grappling hook. 

The wave of light swept through the air, taking Clint by surprise and disorientating him, meaning that he only just brought his feet up in time. He slammed through the glass wall of a building with a yelp of shock, hearing the glass splintering and feeling the shards slicing into him - nothing deep, but enough to sting. His head echoed with the sounds of the explosion, and he could see nothing. He could hear voices over comms, but they weren't making words he could comprehend.  
"Hawkeye... Agent Barton, report..." That was Phil, and even dazed Clint could tell that Phil was afraid. He groaned as he stumbled to his feet, grasping around in the dark, and hissed as his hand landed on a shard of glass.  
"Anyone?" He called out. "Anyone..."

"Agent Romanoff here. I've got him." A hand landed on his arm and Natasha's voice came to him, distorted by the way his head was still ringing.  
"I'm here Clint... Let's get you down..." He felt her guiding him onto her shoulder, and the two of them walked down the steps - he was stumbling but he didn't want to admit what was wrong.

He didn't want them to know. Not until he knew for certain if he was stuck like this. He knew bright lights could cause temporary damage, or permanent, and he was hoping for temporary. He was painfully aware of the fact that even the slightest decline in his sight would render him useless to the team. He was only just clinging on anyway, he was surrounded by superheroes and one god, and he was just a circus runaway with a bow and arrow. His sight kept him purposeful. Losing that meant he was worthless in his mind.

"Hey... Breathe slowly Clint, I know, you had a shock..." Natasha's voice was patient. She was always surprisingly gentle if he was hurt or scared, for all that she could ignore him most of the time, or be harsh towards him - if he needed her, she was careful and he loved her like a sister for it. Her hand on his upper arm was the one thing keeping him together as they made their way down the stairs, and she muttered softly to him, letting him know he'd cut himself, warning him of uneven steps. He nodded, head down, and although he was sure she knew something was wrong, she didn't draw attention to it.

He was lowered into sitting once they reached the sidewalk and near him he could hear metal snapping, then Tony bitching about another faceplate being ruined. Thor tried to apologise, then asked Tony how he was.  
"I'm a bit bruised and battered."  
"You fell several stories in a suit, it hurts." Clint spat out, picturing the whole team standing around Tony. Tony would be fine. He'd just fallen, he should be used to that by now. Steve continued to try and check Tony over though, as if he needed the help.

"Did you hit your head? You're not looking directly at me..." Steve sounded concerned. Clint wondered for a moment if Tony was concussed, before the engineer answered.  
"I can't see. The light hit me full on, Jarvis couldn't throw up the shades in time. It's flash blindness..." Clint felt himself tensing up at that, and Natasha seemed to notice, her grip on his arm becoming a little more firm.  
"Okay Tony, I'm right here..." Steve was speaking to him gently, and focusing on Tony. Normally, Clint had no problem with that, especially when Tony was (from what they knew at least) the one with the most serious injuries. But right now it just added to his growing sense of inferiority. He heard Steve promise to get Bruce to look at Tony, and that was too much for him.

"He... he needs...needs to help me." He muttered, the words coming out strangely distorted from his fear. "I can't see. That.... I'm the eyes of the team, I..." as he spoke, fear built up in his chest until he was gasping, unable to speak. Natasha pulled him into an embrace, and a moment later Coulson arrived on scene, sinking down beside him and taking his hand. 

Clint was panicking, the world shrunk to the darkness in his eyes and the fact that his worth was in his sight.  
"Barton..." Phil's voice was firm, commanding, and managed to sneak inside the barriers he had constructed, adding one comfort to an otherwise terrifying landscape. "I'm here... Breathe, slowly." Clint tried to obey, and Natasha's hands on his back guided him through the motions. Slowly, he felt himself relax, and he threw himself into Coulson's arms, burying his face in his neck and whimpering softly, letting Phil's voice ground him. "It's alright Clint. It's okay."

He was moved a little, Coulson rearranging his limbs so that Bruce could check him over.  
"Bruce just needs to take a look at you, alright, it's not going to hurt..."  
"I'm here Clint..." Bruce told him as he prodded and poked at him. "I just have to check to see if you're hurt... Clint..." Bruce murmured, almost reproachful. "What have I told you about landing in glass? None of the cuts are too deep this time and no buried shards, you need to just go home and shower and get cleaned up, but try to stop it. Glass is bad for you..." Bruce's voice was soothing, and Clint kept himself breathing even as Bruce lifted his eyelids.  
"Alright. I can see that there's nothing too damaged in the eyes... In a day or two it should start to recover, and it should heal back to where it was previously..."  
"I don't like the sound of should doc..." Clint muttered.  
"Just trust me Clint. Your eyes will get better."  
"Thank you Bruce." Coulson spoke for Clint, his hand resting on the archer's shoulder. "I'll keep him out of trouble for you."

Clint glared, but at the time there was nothing that he could say. He was frightened and disorientated and the fact his sight should recover wasn't enough for him. Since he'd been a youth in the circus, it had been drilled into him that his only worth was his skill with a bow and arrow. He might have found some people in the past who liked him for his skill in bed, but they wouldn't keep him around for longer than it took to get satisfied. He didn't want Phil and the team to join the long list of people that had thrown him away.

"Clint." Natasha's voice was harsh, but he was grateful for it. She embraced him, murmuring softly into his ear. "You will be alright. Go home, relax. I will see you tomorrow at lunch time, we will go to that cafe you like. I promise." With that, she moved away. 

That promise grounded him. He had until tomorrow lunch time before he had to worry about being thrown away. Maybe they were attached enough to him that they'd keep him even if he didn't recover, like a mascot... His heart started to hammer in his chest, and he felt sick as he imagined the extra burden he’d be on the team. Phil led him back to a transport, and he heard the car move, but his focus was blown. 

Normally, if a mission went badly and he found himself blindfolded in a car he could remember the route. But now he was drowning in fear, and he couldn't even tell left from right. Phil's hand on his shoulder was the one thing that felt real.

"Keep breathing Clint. We're nearly home."  
"Yeh... look, Phil, I know you think you have some kind of...debt to me..."  
"Clint." There was a harshness to Phil's voice, and he twisted to look at him. "Are you asking whether I have a debt to you? You've been my boyfriend for four years now. My friend for seven. My asset for eight. I care about you. This isn't just debt, this is me wanting you to be okay. I would look after you quite regardless of any debt I thought I owed, because I want to look after you. But you are hurting. And I do owe you the care you deserve..." He sighed, and pulled Clint close.

Even unable to see, being pulled against Coulson's body felt safe, and Clint started to relax, even if his mind couldn't make sense of the words. He knew what all of the sentences meant, and he could understand them if they came from someone else's mouth, aimed at another individual. But trying to make sense of himself being worth that was hard.

The car stopped, and Phil guided him back through the tower, informing Jarvis of the situation. Clint held onto his hand, trusting Coulson to guide him to their room. The smell of their apartment brushed against him as the door opened, and he felt himself calm a little. He was home.

Coulson's hand let go of his own, and Clint could hear his footsteps echoing off of the wooden floors. Their apartment was classy, aside from all the parts where it wasn't. It was Coulson's organised neatness, complete with Captain America posters on the walls, and his natural mess. A tangle of fluffy blankets, trinkets Clint had picked up, hideous mugs that were gifts from Natasha, and a comfortable sofa that Clint had demanded was rescued when Coulson's office was refurbished. It resulted in a flat that was a mess of styles, but which both of them felt at ease in.

Clint waited patiently for Coulson's return, wondering what he had planned. He knew their usual post-mission routine, but wasn’t sure if it was different today.  
"Kneel for me Clint..." Coulson demanded, and his voice sent a shiver running through Clint's body. He hesitated for a moment then knelt, a little nervous. Normally he liked these games, but he wasn't so sure at the moment.  
"You okay baby?" Phil's voice was gentle now, concerned, and his hand stroked Clint's hair gently. The gentleness in it, the concern that underlay every one of Coulson’s actions, touched him deeply. Clint nodded, nuzzling into the touch a little, asking wordlessly for Coulson to take care of him.  
"Yeh...Green..."  
"Okay..." Phil's lips brushed his forehead, and then Clint felt the pressure of a blindfold being wrapped over his eyes, and knotted at the back of his head. "That's it... I've taken everything away now, it's just us Clint..."  
Clint nodded, feeling himself beginning to properly relax.  
"That's it... you're doing so well beautiful... do you want me to take just care of you, or do you want to have sex?" Coulson asked, and Clint thrilled for a moment at the knowledge that if he asked, Coulson would just hold him and kiss him, and not ask for anything in return. Even after five years, he was still grateful for that.  
"I want all of you." He answered.

"Come on then..." Coulson's hand guided him to his feet, and he was led towards the bed. 

Coulson's hand rested solidly on his back, and he felt real. He was something more than the darkness.  
"Lay down for me Clint..." He guided him back on the bed, and Clint relaxed, feeling the fabric of the bedsheet beneath him. He closed his eyes beneath the blindfold, focusing on the sensation of Phil's fingers running down his side. He lifted his arms up when Phil went to remove his shirt, and lifted his hips a moment later so that his pants could be pulled down. He groaned softly as Coulson's head ducked down and warm lips wrapped around the head of his cock. 

"Fuck..."  
"You okay there Clint?" Coulson asked, his breath brushing over the top of Clint's cock, making him twitch in need.  
"Yeh... I'm good...Green." Clint answered, panting slightly as firm gun-calloused hands ran up his chest, pinching his nipples slightly as Coulson's lips stroked over his neck, sucking on the flesh. 

He gasped, spreading his legs for Coulson, hearing the click of the lube bottle being opened, shivering as a finger brushed over his entrance, to push inside of him a moment later.  
"That's so good Clint... such a good boy..." Coulson murmured praise to him, and Clint spread his legs wider, rocking up into the touches, needing him. 

It wasn't always like this. It wasn't always quiet and gentle and patient, but right now that was what Clint needed, and Coulson always gave Clint what he needed. He prepared him almost painfully slowly, making him whimper and squirm.  
"Need you Phil... please... want you inside of me..." He pleaded with him, rocking against the teasing fingers. Coulson stroked his prostate and he gasped, moaning out.  
"Please... please Phil, want you in me..." Clint's mind was full of Phil's touches, of the sensations he was providing and anticipation of what was going to come. The fear of the dark hadn't just receded, it had disappeared for the moment while all he could think of was Phil.  
"If you want that..." He nipped at Clint's ear, his tongue running over the shell of it. "You're so good... I think you deserve a chance to have me inside you." Coulson's voice was soft, and Clint whined, arching up, trying to plead for it. 

Coulson waited a moment longer, brushing his fingers over Clint's prostate before he pulled them out and slowly pushed inside of him, making Clint cry out in pleasure, screaming Phil's name as the older agent rocked into him.  
"That's it..." Phil murmured. "That's so good... my good boy Clint... my amazing Clint..." 

Clint lost track of time, rocking against him until Coulson whispered against his ear, telling him that he could come. He came, feeling Coulson's own cum filling him. He lay on the bed, panting, while Coulson pulled out, cleaning him and kissing his cheek.  
"So good..."  
Clint basked in the afterglow, holding onto Coulson's hand, trying to fight the reality that he knew was coming. Slowly the darkness came back, but Coulson was still there, and it wasn't as terrifying as before. He yawned, sleep overwhelming him, and lost track of time. He slowly blinked back to wakefulness.

Coulson led him to the bathroom, but kept the blindfold on as he washed him. Clint was grateful for that. He wasn't ready to face the fact he couldn't see yet. Once he was clean, Coulson helped him to dress again.  
"What're we doing Phil?" Clint murmured, hoping he wouldn't be sent to the therapists before he was recovered from his injury.

"We're going to the range Clint. We're going to shoot. You're going to shoot for me, can you do that?"  
"I don't think I can..." Clint muttered. "I can't see...."  
"I'll be your eyes." Coulson whispered. "I'll be your eyes, and you're going to shoot for me..." He walked with Clint, down to the range. Clint stayed still, until Coulson handed him his bow. He ran his fingers over it, relearning it's shape, and when an arrow was pressed into his hand, he notched it again, the movement natural to him. Coulson guided him towards the target, rubbing his back gently.  
"Just shoot for me."

Clint drew the arrow back, and fired it towards the target. He heard the thud which meant it had at least hit the rough right area.  
"That was brilliant... that was perfect Clint." A second arrow pressed into his hands, and Clint fired that one as well, not knowing if he was actually managing to hit anywhere near the centre. Coulson was telling him he was, and that mattered.

"Agents Barton and Coulson, I'm sorry to interrupt." Jarvis's voice cut through the air. "But Sir's eyesight has begun to recover, and Doctor Banner believes Clint’s may have done so as well..."  
Coulson smiled at that, and reached to remove the blindfold. Clint closed his eyes still for a moment, as Coulson's lips brushed his. Then he peeked between his eyelashes, relieved when he could see light. He turned to look towards the end of the range.

The arrows were clustered around the yellow and red of the target. He shook his head, and smiled up to Coulson.  
"You said I was doing well."  
"You couldn't see. It was good enough." Coulson answered, and his hand slipped down to rest on Clint's hip.


End file.
